


sadistic sourwolf

by rydercider



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Quiet Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rydercider/pseuds/rydercider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheriff Stilinski doesn't have the graveyard shift for once. But by the time he gets home, Derek has no pants on and Stiles is just moments away from meeting euphoria. C:</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was dark when Derek had come crawling through Stiles' window, yet he found himself grateful he had come late. His eyes dangerously flashed hues of red at the sight of each individual mole spotting Stiles' back. The third of a moon filled the room that would have been calming to a regular person.. But Derek was not normal. Something else that wasn't normal? How turned on he got, simply by watching Stiles' back rise and fall peacefully.

"Are you going to just stand in the corner and watch me all night?" Stiles' murmured against the bed, voice cracking as he wiped the fatigue from his eyes.

He didn't exactly knowwhen he fell asleep waiting for Derek, but he regretted the position he had. Drool dampened his cheek that had pressed against his bedspread. Gross? .. No. Well, maybe a little. But the light had glistened off his cheek as if he was sculpted by Michael Angelo himself. Derek made a little note to remind himself to come late much more often.

Before Derek could even come up with a retort, Stiles was pushing onto his knees, his head cocked to the side. It was a look that challenged the werewolf yet held so much affection, it made something in his chest flutter uncomfortably. It was when his eyes caught on the dangerously sharp hipbone peeking from above Stiles' sleeping bottoms, that caused him to advance finally on his Little Red Riding Hood.

"No underwear? Tch, someone has their hopes up," Derek growled, already out of his jacket and shoes and crawling on his hands and knees onto the bed.

Stiles leaned forward to meet Derek halfway, bumping his forehead lightly to the others. One hand wrapped around the back of his neck, gripping the hair at the nape of Derek's neck,

"You have no idea just how long I have been waiting for this,"

At this point, Stiles' body was beyond sensitive. It was just so much as a cold breath against his skin that would cause his toes to curl. And of course, Derek took this as an advantage and teased Stiles to the point where he thought he would actuallycum without being touched. While he was busy turning the teenager into a writhing mess, he forgot to keep his other senses alert. It was a little too late to pull back when he heard the front door swing open and an exasperated groan.

"I thought you said your Dad was on a graveyard shift!" Derek barked, not bothering to inch away. His sharp words and hot breaths just sent another blanket of goose bumps over the frail body beneath him.

After a brief moment of collecting his voice again, Stiles shifted onto his elbows so he could break the distance between them. "Who cares.. F-Derek, you are not backing down now. You are not leaving this house until I say so," Stiles whispered out, though his command held absolutely no threat.

The two shared a shrug and a short kiss before Derek's lips were traveling South. His stubble grazed the hypersensitive skin across Stiles' neck, slick with sweat, and /begging/ to be bitten. Granting its silent wish, Derek's teeth scraped across its surface, stopping at the junction connecting the neck and shoulder.. Stiles' soft spot, and the perfect place of a hickey- hidden easily by a shirt. His heated tongue grazed over the faint mark from last week, and wasted no time in biting the sweet flesh. Derek immediately smirked around the skin as Stiles' hips lifted into the air, rubbing dangerously against his own and the erotic moan Stiles had to cover by biting into his knuckle.

"You're going to regret say that, Little Red," Derek purred, fucking /purred/. Sadistic Sourwolf.

"Stiles? You still 'wake?" the voice from the hallway called, coming so precariously close to his door.

Fake asleep? He might come in. Call out to him? He might come in. Tell him to go away? He might come in.

There was no way, Stiles could avoid this or so he thought.

"Ye-Yeah, D-Dad. I'm trying to -nngh- sleep. I have a /reeeallyyy/ bad headache, so can we just talk in the morning?" Stiles squeaked out, hazel eyes lost in Derek's sea blue eye's. "N-Night Dad," he stuttered out, muscles relaxing instantly into the bed.. All except one.

When Stiles heard his Dad's door just down the hall close, he wrapped his legs around Derek's waist, using the last bit of strength he had to press their hardened members against each other. Which would have caused a /house/ filling moan to form around his lips if it wasn't for Derek's hand clamping his jaw shut, suppressing it to a pitiful whine, eyes locked on the Alpha's the whole time.

Stiles had thought the sad part was how turned on he got on by that, not only by the silencing, but the lingering eye contacts. Yet, he had not even gotten out of his sleeping bottoms while Derek was completely nude at this mark. His plaid pajamas were stuck around his thighs and every time he tried to wriggle out of them, Derek would have him pinned into the bed again. Truthfully, he didn't mind.. Not one bit.

"Ha-aah~ De-Derek," Stiles whimpered out, nails digging into the werewolf's back as his hips stuttered upwards for more friction. He did not care how needy, how flushed, how turned on he was. Here he was, seriously on the brink of an orgasm which just managed to throw his whole body into an euphoria.

It took one rough thrust, all thanks to Derek's sharp hips, and Stiles' back was arching off the bed. His mouth gaped open with no noises coming out, and his blunt nails dug into Derek's shoulder blades, surely enough to draw blood but every time Stiles went back to the spot, it would be healed.

One more thrust and Stiles has buried his teeth into Derek's right shoulder, eyes rolling back in their sockets as he was pushed into Euphoria's /Heaven./ Cum streaked out of his now hypersensitive dick which did not stop Derek for a second who used to extra lubrication to rut against Stiles', picking up the pace. Derek wasn't as 'expressive' as Stiles was and came with a lingering grunt right beside his ear. If Stiles' hadn't just came, that noise would have easily done it for him.


	2. chapter two... kind of

The second time around, Derek had purposefully waited until the Sheriff's cruiser had pulled into the Stilinski driveway. Even from so far away, he could sniff, practically see, the mounds of fatigue rolling off the Sheriff. Work really had been taking a toll on the widowed father, and his son. As of late, Stiles had been craving more and more attention from Derek- not gaining enough from his Dad who would pass out on the couch before Stiles could come downstairs to ask if they finally had a lead, nor gaining near to nothing from his 'best'friend who was so wrapped around his relationship with Allison and being lacrosse co-captain.

Now Derek wasn't exactly complaining about this whole situation because, hey, the sex was seriously phenomenal despite the fact that Stiles passed out every time afterwards as if he weren't getting enough sleep.. Derek hadn't told Stiles about the noticable bags under his eyes or how he could read him like an open diary, and even dismissed the obvious lies Stiles' attemped to hide under. Derek wanted to help but every time he would try to bring it up, the teenager's fingers would instantly bring up to the Alpha's killer abs or begin playing with his jean's zipper, or even dancing along his black t-shirt-which may seem like a tiny gesture yet caused so many things to happen. Derek didn't stop him either, feeling as though it was the least he could do to make Stiles feel a smidge better.

As the werewolf approached, his ears perked up, eavesdropping on Stiles and his Father. . He couldn't help it!

"Stiles? Are you asleep? I- Can we talk? With...- I- I haven't been around much these past few weeks, and when ever I am ho-," Stiles' Father explained through the door, forehead pressed to the cool wood with his hand hovering over the handle, wishing his wife could be there to open the door for him.

"-Dad, you're tired. Just go to sleep, I'll see you in the morning," Stiles interrupted.. Lies. He wouldn't see his dad in the morning. He'll be lucky if he even sees him before dinner, the next night.

Derek couldn't listen to this much longer. He couldn't listen to the painful way Stiles forced his voice to remain steady as if he were holding back a thousand tears. He couldn't listen to their relationship stripping thinner and thinner. Derek waited until the Sheriff had closed his door down the hall to climb through Stiles' window, which hadn't closed for the past month even during freezing nights incase Derek came over.

"I don't know if you knew this- but they made doors so you don't have to do that. You know, those things that open and close if you turn the knob- yeah, those contraptions," Stiles humoured, hiding himself with his largest, and possibly his only, strength: Sarcasm. He was already swaying towards Derek on all fours, crawling across his bed as if he were the predator and Derek was the pray. Perhaps they could role play that out one day- As in, Stiles would bring it up and Derek would shoot it down with his infamous bone chilling glare. The one that sent Stiles up the wall, in a good way. And the exact same one he wore in that moment.

"...Stiles," the werewolf growled, not moving an inch towards the bed where said male lingered at the edge, sitting on his heels. His shirt seemed to have gotten loose since the last time Derek saw him wear it. Not. Acceptable. People did tell him he had a knack for detail when it came to certain things, his more-than-a-friend-but-not-exactly-a-boyfriend in this case, that actually mattered.

"De-Derek, I don't want to talk abou-" Stiles began, his voice sounding like the human equivalent to a damn kicked puppy before he was interupted- "Off. Shirt, I want it off," Derek commanded, eyes flashing speckles of deep red before returning to its original colour as he took a few steps forward, shedding his jacket.

Doing as he was told, Stiles fiddled with the hem of his shirt before obeying and peeling it off his fragile skin. With his arms stetched above his head, Derek's eyes instantly caught on the protruding ribcage that were highlighted by the moon, which only darkened that shadows beside it. It looked unhealthy along with the way his hip bones jutted forward, much more than usual. Derek had to hold himself back from making a whimper, involuntarily. It was the look on Stiles' face that made Derek promise to wait until Stiles was ready to speak about it himself.

Just a few moments later, Derek was pinning Stiles to the bed, adding sweet kisses to his cheeks, nose, each and every mole that grafitti'd Stiles' porcelain skin. Sitting up, balancing himself right above Stiles' pelvis, afraid he could crush the poor thing if he were to actually lower himself an inch. With curious and seeking eyes, Derek raked his bare torso, not allowing Stiles' to squirm away this time. With rough fingers, he dragged them down his rib cage, bumping across each rib and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Derek wanted to test something out..

His thumbs pathed across Stiles' collarbones then each nail, still human, tapped against the lengthy bone. He made sure it wouldn't scratch the surface too harshly to bring up blood, but enough to leave a faint pink trail. And he did exactly that. Derek hadn't exactly expected such an erotic, inaudible reaction.. Stiles' back was arched off the bed, as if his torso was begging to get closer to Derek's hands, to get moe than just a pink trail. His mouth forming an 'O', knowing if he were to make an unusual noise he would have to explain something to his Father that he would love to go another week-Scratch that, another year without doing so.


	3. laying around, so here

Derek inched his way down the fragile expanse of creamy white skin, spotted with mouth watering birthmarks. His tongue lapped at the trail of pink his blunt nails had left down Stiles' chest and pressed open mouth kisses where they ended, right above the hem of plaid pajama bottoms. He couldn't resist the temptation to nip at Stiles' navel while his fingers fiddled with the elastic waistband. Derek sat straight for a moment, peeling his black v-neck over his head and chucking it to some dark corner in the room before leaning back down to ghost a kiss against the corner of Stiles lips.

He was wearing one of those lop-sided grins, not even bothering to hide it like he normally did when they were in such a heated moment.

-cue flashback-

"What?" Derek muttered, knees on either side of Stiles' hips who was now just gripping his stomach, as if the laughter was becoming physically painful.

"Nngh, it- It's just- your face!" Stiles sputtered out, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes and peering up at the werewolf on top of him which only brought on a whole new onslaught of laughter that could be heard downstairs. Derek just peered at Stiles with the same 'What-the-fuck' and 'I'm-still-waiting-for-an-explanation' look he had perfected to be distinguised from his 'I'm-a-inch-away-from-snapping-your-neck' look. . Truthfully, they still looked practically the same apart from an eyebrow quirked upwards, but Stiles kept that to himself.

"You! You look so serious right now. I hope your dick isn't as stone cold as that stare!" Stiles exclaimed as the toothy grin and snorting laughter slowly began to die away, his hand raising from his bare stomach to hold Derek's jaw in his palm, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone. Affection pierced through his auburn eyes and suddenly, Derek wasn't pissed off anymore.


End file.
